


With Rose Petals

by ashilrak



Series: Unrelated Hamilton Soulmate AUs [10]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8415850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashilrak/pseuds/ashilrak
Summary: "Not all soulmarks made sense, not all soulmarks matched up, and no one could say for sure what they meant.Alexander had quills. There was one on his inner left forearm, another along his right lower leg, and a third going from the nape of his neck down the length of his spine."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ultimatecryptid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultimatecryptid/gifts).



> I wrote this for the Tommy 177(6) RPer, who asked for Alex/Maria angst, I hope I delivered <3

Not all soulmarks made sense, not all soulmarks matched up, and no one could say for sure what they meant.

Alexander had quills. 

There was one on his inner left forearm, another along his right lower leg, and a third going from the nape of his neck down the length of his spine.

He never knew what to think of them, so did his best to put them out of mind. He was always a little weary when he wrote, for he couldn’t help but think there some significance to the feather in his hand. 

Alexander liked to think that perhaps his soulmark represented himself. He was the one who controlled his own fate, and he did that through writing. Words would flow from his hand onto paper, and he’d feel a sort of power. He liked to think it was some sort of spiritual connection - what he was put on this oath to do. That spark turned into a flame that burned bright inside of him, motivating him, and pushing him to go farther.

The islands were a dark, terrible place after his mother’s death and the hurricane. 

So he put his pen to parchment and wrote a letter to his absent father, simply trying to focus his feelings and rid himself of them so he could get back to work. That same letter ended up being his way out, and Alexander took the opportunity that was presented to him.

The rains and wind of the hurricane that had ravaged his home had dulled his flame, but the sea air and endless ocean fanned it back to life. The voyage was terrible, and Alexander feared that the fire that had started was perhaps a sort of sign - sudden, dangerous, but ultimately smothered. He always had been the suspicious sort.

Once he got to New York, his suspicion didn’t fade, but neither did his fire. He had no name, no reputation - nothing more than a letter from a man far away working in his favor. He had to work for every single thing, while the men around him were able to float by on names and fortunes.

The struggle made him stronger, and the hunger grew to define him.

Most people were able to cover their marks, and hide them from both their own view and the view of others. Soulmarks were curious things, and everyone wanted to know how other people were identified. There were those who still believed in the romance of things like soulmates, and were always on the hunt for the person with the mark that seemed to complete their own.

Alexander didn’t believe in such things, or rather a part of him did, but the logical side of his brain he placed so much pride in always worked to quiet that hopeful voice speaking from the corner of his mind. 

Too many things could be said to make sense with a quill - an ink pot, a bird, parchment - the list goes on. 

He was aware that people found his looks appealing, and he had no shame in using that to his advantage. A well-placed heated gaze worked in the place of the name of someone’s father. The marks on his back and arm were usually hidden under layers of cloth, but the outline of the one on his leg was sometimes visible through his stockings. People liked to see that, and people liked to comment on it.

It was his mark that brought him to General Washington’s attention.

Of course, everyone involved was under the impression that is was Alexander’s talent, skill, and reputation that got him his position - and while they were not entirely incorrect, for Washington would never bring in anyone who was completely useless - everyone didn’t know that upon General Washington’s chest was the image of an eagle in flight, with a trail of feathers in its wake.

The General was a happily married man, and had no intention of changing that status simply because of a young nobody with a mark that might coincide with his own, but he also had no intention of sending that young man to his death.

John Laurens was a man he worked with, with a sprinkling of freckles across his face, and a permanent splatter of ink on his shoulder. Alexander loved John Laurens, and that love was mutual, but Alexander could not have John Laurens.

Everyone underestimated Elizabeth Schuyler, and Alexander was no different, even after he married her. 

He had been attending a ball in the middle of winter, and he had met a woman by the name of Angelica Church who caught his attention like no other woman had before. She was married, and above his station, but she burned brighter than the sun. She introduced him to her sister.

Eliza was not an unattractive girl, but seemed entirely too susceptible to his affections. 

Little did Alexander know that she only seemed that way for she had made the decision to appear so. She was usually quite shy with potential suitors, but when he eyes fell upon Alexander, she saw something in him, and claimed him for herself.

He of course, knew nothing of this.

Elizabeth Hamilton revealed to Alexander on their wedding night a single lit candle on her rib cage, leaving an odd-shaped shadow on her back, vaguely resembling the outline of a figure.

The war ended, Philip Hamilton was born with seven dots going across his collarbones, and Alexander started to practice law alongside one Aaron Burr. He was quite good, and the fire within him continued to burn.

Sometimes, at night, when he was holding his wife in his arms, he liked to think that the flame lighting his Betsey’s candle was supposed to represent him in some way, and his quills were for his letters that had earned her love in the first place.

His appointment as treasury secretary brought him both the status he had been craving for so long, and his downfall.

She came in the form of a beautiful woman with rose petals emblazoned across her breast, and the words “threatens more extensive and complicated mischiefs to the world than have hitherto flowed from the three great scourges of mankind” leading a trail down her leg. 

Words were considered a blessing to have as a mark, as they supposedly lead a clear trail to wherever it was that marks were supposed to lead. 

One evening, they laid in bed in silence after their coupling, and she told Alexander about how she wasn’t able to read the words for such a long time, and took them to be some sort of warning. Maria liked to trace the quills with her fingers, in the small moments of actual intimacy that Alexander found himself resisting less and less as the months went on. 

Alexander had always liked playing with fire, and the warning Maria felt her words represented did nothing to deter him.

He really should have known he was bound to get burned.

The flame inside of him was still there, strong and bright.

Alexander liked to think he had ended his relationship with Maria, but she featured too prominently in his thoughts for her to be truly extinguished from his life. He couldn’t be classified as weak in many regards, but she was the one thing he couldn’t help but lose against. There was something dangerous about her, softened by the love in her gaze when their eyes would meet.

The confrontation was inevitable truly, for Alexander was not a man meant to live a pleasant life. He wrote the damned pamphlet in a blur, and it was only afterwards he realized why the words seemed familiar. 

Eliza’s reaction was painful, but expected. He had hurt her.

Alexander supposed that using that same logic, he really shouldn’t have been surprised when Maria showed up at his office one night, with tears dripping from her eyes. She was hurt, and she was furious, but she was still beautiful and burning bright - the light from the fire flickering in her eyes and reflecting off the rose petals on her chest.

She didn’t speak, and Alexander was silent, knowing that she was there for a reason. If she had the intention of avoiding him, she never would have shown up at his door.

Maria had stepped close, close enough for his skin to remember their shared touches, and grabbed his place and placed it on her skirt, right over where the script of the mark started.

“You would think that one of us would have recognized your handwriting.”

And then she left, never to be seen again.

That was the first time the flame that had been keeping Alexander alive flickered.

It never burnt quite as bright after that.

Society claimed it was because he couldn’t bear to live under the weight of the scandal of his own creation, but he knew better.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually really enjoyed writing this? 
> 
> I'm running a Hamilton Fic Exchange, sign up by November 1st at 11:59 pm EST here: http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Hamilton_Gift_Exchange_2k16
> 
> Please feel free to come pester me on my tumblr @ashilrak
> 
> Actually you should come spam my tumblr with questions the meaning of all of the marks, it'll be great, I promise
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


End file.
